


Marked // Vikturi

by wretchers



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Dysfunctional Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 21:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12093642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wretchers/pseuds/wretchers
Summary: "The difference between you and me is that when you wake up,""Your nightmare ends."Viktor Nikiforov is marked. Yuri Katsuki isn't. When the two meet will they change the world in which they live in, or will they come crashing down with it?





	1. Chapter 1

Yuri's POV

It's always been like this, at least that's what everyone says. No-one knows when it started, "always been the marked and the non-marked", the pure and the wicked, the good and the evil, but I'm pretty sure no-one even knows why it's like that anymore. I guess it's sad that it's the only thing I've ever- we've ever- known, and apparently ever will. Their marks are on their right shoulders, big and bold and bright and whenever they make the "treacherous" journey to our part of town we slyly peek at them, the marks. The things that separate us from the rest of society.

Not many come this way though, too afraid that they'll catch our sicknesses or their precious marks will disappear. Cowards. Still, I've tried plenty of times to sneak into the city, there's plenty of rumours about what's there; endless piles of money, toys and gadgets, exotic cuisines and countless sports we can only dream about, I've never had the chance to see them for myself though. The city's guarded by electric fences with a charge so powerful one touch could kill you, lazers so bright they'd blind anyone who'd dare face them even for a second, even a wall bigger than the presidents ego. Funny how they're allowed to wander in and out of the crappy part of town we inhabit but I step one foot into the city and we'd be shot before we would even have the chance to speak.

 

The only place which is considered mutual ground is the forest, and surprise-surprise it's off limits to everyone. Anyone in their right mind wouldn't step foot in there after dark, which is exactly why I love it there. The tranquil sound of the wind brushing against your thighs, the soft hoots of the owls after dark and most of all the absence of any humanity. The one place on Earth the right side of your shoulder doesn't matter, all you need is the lack off any sort of conscience. Of course there's dangers, patrolling markeds looking for anyone who dares disobey the authorities, the occasional murder or stabbing but most of the risks are just gossip from the spineless teenagers.

At the end of the forest, the last few meters of free space stands a small building, faded white with the words "Grand Prix Finals 2016"painted lightly on with sky blue which too has faded and dirtied.2016?That was almost 30 years ago? The building still stands tall and striking, almost a statement saying it would stand sure and magnificent forever no matter what happened. I sure hoped it does. Try as I might, I can never prise open the lock, sealed with such immense tightness I doubt even the lazers in the city can. Even then, the forest is the most beautiful thing I can lay my eyes on.The oaks stretch on for miles, branches reaching towards the sky as if being strangled by the suffocating control of the world we live in, not so different to me if i think about it. In winter the branches are covered in thick snow, tiny white angels falling from the comfort of the skies to the harsh conditions of the earth. The forest floor is covered in a thick blanket of it and the clouds above glisten and glitter like the lights we can see from the city.Crisp, cool air floats around filling the emptiness in my heart and when all the animals hibernate i can see how alone i really am.

 

Nevertheless the emptiness in the forest is nothing compared to the emptiness in the town where no one even bothers to make eye contact anymore.The marketplace is more like a barren wasteland, most of the food either stolen or so high-priced in the winter most just decide they aren't all that hungry. I can almost see the imaginary dust-balls rolling around the town as most shun the outside for the little heat in their homes. Walking through the deserted square i spot the occasional sight of small children playing in the snow, not aware in the slightest about the vile world around them. Sweet, innocent faces lighting up at the sight of so much snow; they were even making snow angels and snowmen, unaware of the intense discrimination around them, naive and careless, like I once was.

 

Apart from the children, the centre was essentially deserted, just as I expected. Walking through the town always brings back unwanted memories, places I don't ever want to go back to again, even sleep brings seemingly endless ordeals of pain in the form of nightmares. I scramble through the littered streets, full of old rubbish, torn signs from years ago that were never properly cleaned up, but the worst part is the blood. Red trickles of what was once life splattered along the pavement in a grizzly shape of what was once a person. Alas, I can never help but imagine what that blood once was; the persons dreams, hopes, aspirations, the person they loved? In a split second all gone, nothing left but a spill of crimson to compensate. I guess that's one of the worst things about living here, there's so many deaths, murders , executions no one even bothers to identify the dead anymore."shove em' under the ground where they belong" they say, it's up the victim's family to identify the lifeless body which was once their loved one.

Patrolling markeds walk the streets today, people board up their shops and homes, no-one but an idiot wants to be around when there's officers in town. You see, legally they're not allowed to touch, arrest or jail anyone unless the head of the department gives the clear, but which marked in their right mind would defend one of us? To them we're nothing more than waste flesh, garbage that needs to be dealt with, if the police shot the bloody "mayor" none of them would utter a word. Pulling my hood lower to cover up my face, I awkwardly clamber across the street when i hear the words every damn person in this town dreads.

"Where's your ID?"

 

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Viktor's POV

Cold, bitter air sweeps across my face as I sigh to myself, breathing in the few moments I have alone. Times like these are few and far between, and I try to relish them as much as physically possible. For a few hours, I'm finally home by myself and I couldn't be more grateful; no stress, no family, no people. I can't go leave the house -the security cameras will plot my every move- but the small pond in the garden is plentiful for scenery. Staring across the landing to the photographs, I recognise the last one of Mum before well...She was gone. Everyone tries to show their fucking "sympathy", and of course even though they'd never spoken to me in my life they had me all figured out; the poor depressed rich boy whose Mum killed herself after everything got too much. They're not far off to be fair, but how can they just look me in the eye and say "I understand"?

On top of that, I'm trapped in this prison where the outside world is "dangerous" and no place for me , a young rich marked waiting for the so called wife of his dreams. I don't think I'll be able to cope for much longer, the are you okays and the stupid therapists, but worst of all isn't the people who have fake sympathy, it's dad. Dad, the man who told me to man-up when I saw my mothers dead body on the bathroom floor aged 7, Dad who locked me up and kept me like his own doll, Dad who took away the only bit of normal I had left.

For years I've faked a smile, wiped the tears from my ears as they ask whats wrong, hidden the pain with a half- hearted laugh that covers my emotions with a mask. A lot of the time I have alone is spent daydreaming, what if someone saw the mask was only skin-deep, if they looked me in the face and said "No , you're not ok" but at the same time what would that mean? Will anyone ever be able to save me? Would anyone ever understand? Even if it is pain, a pain so deep you can drown in it, it's still the only thing that's truly mine. It was the only thing they couldn't take from me , no matter how badly I wanted it.

From the bedroom window the view of the forest is breathtaking, snow falling down like my hopes for a better life and I wonder, what's beyond the steel death trap gates on the edge of the city? I can vaguely see the forest, and i ponder whether anyone actually dares to slip past the fences that read "TRESPASSERS WILL BE KILLED". Who am I kidding, I've never even stepped foot outside the city gates, and the rare times I'm allowed outside are under severe supervision. Hell, I had to hold his hand even driving to the shops till I was 12 years old! Still, I can't help but gaze at the undisturbed trees reaching out towards me, almost calling me to join them in freedom. Free from social boundaries, free from the overwhelming pressure set by everyone in my life, free to be whom you wanted. I can't wait for the day i get married, the first chance i get I can run away to the forest, blame my disappearance on a kidnapper and finally be alone.

Of course I'd love to be alone with someone but Dad's always automatically assumed I'm into girls. I don't blame him, I'm always openly flirting with almost everyone; cheesy pick up lines, lip biting, playing hard to get. The truth is, I've never even wanted to be in a relationship with any of them, stupid rich girls who have everything yet still act like hopeless kittens waiting to be picked like flowers by their male counterparts. Still, i swagger up to them and flaunt my apparant good looks, plaster on a smile like it'll heal the wounds inside and approach in an almost "look at me assholes I'm a straight douche!!" way. It kills me knowing that they should be treated with respect, not hit on by every rich marked boy who thinks grabbing someones ass randomly is appropriate.

Our world is fucked up. Every time I hear him make a homophobic comment like "stupid faggots" or "its not natural" i bite my lip, cringing internally and wanting to die right there and then. Why can't he just accept anything I am? It's like being in a prison made of velvet, huge spaces but no where to think, lavish meals filled with brain poison and paracetamol that kills your mind. By every coming day I get more and more desperate for an escape, whether it be a real prison or the sweet release of death.

Of course I would be lying if I said I'm not privileged, the world of the markeds is a flashy, showy place where a person can pretty much be treated like a God if he has the right amount of money, but I'd trade all of it for a chance to see what's beyond the gates. Rumours say many terrible things about the place, but even so I'd love to see something with my own eyes for once in my life; for once I want to see the snowy forest from somewhere outside my bedroom window, and for once, I want to be free.

Many times I've packed my rucksack to run away, filled it only with food and clothes, no photos, no memories of this place, just a new start, but then I start to wonder where i would go, they'd find me any day, and besides who would I stay with? Markeds are expected to be extroverts and outgoing, party animals but classy all at the same time. Me, I'm jokey, naive and end up accidentally flirting with 50-year-old women the few times I do try to socialise. Naturally, the other kids avoided me like a plague, and adulthood didn't make it any better, now I was expected to be married with a bunch of bratty kids destined to grow up in the same environment as me, and the cycle endlessly continues.

Anyway, so I sit contemplating what I should do when a thought strikes me like a bullet.The forest! They wouldn't even be allowed to look for me there, "no trespassing means no trespassing " I'll finally be free, I can finally escape! Hurriedly i pack a bag, I don't know how much time I have left till they arrive back here, and I need to separate as much distance as possible. Shoving snacks, water and a few old jeans and T-shirts (which technically I'm not allowed to wear) I sprint down the stairs and realise I'm standing just a few feet away from the front door.

The hallway is painted in a classic shade of cream, covered in murals and paintings of ancestors looking down as if they're horrified just at the sight of me. Bright, blinding lights light the passageway up, held up right at the front door. I've stared at it countless times, the white interior plain and boring, but this time I see something different, I see all the memories held here, endless fights, tears and sadness. Control beyond measure, distrust and depression. Finally without realising I picture the last breaths of my mother, her lifeless arm reaching towards me. I must say goodbye.

 

"tell our dad I'm sorry"

 

And I'm gone, the only trace left a photo of a smiling silver-haired boy before fear ate him alive.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuri's POV

 

Sharp, forceful hands grab me by the shoulders and slam me against the solid brick wall behind me, and I can hear something click with an almost instant jab of pain following in my jaw. The figure behind me is chuckling loudly, and sneering at my obvious pain.

 

"So I finally found you, Katsuki" the deep accented voice whispers in my ear, and I can see the obnoxious smirk spreading across his cheeks. He carefully but forcingly pins my hands above my head firmly enough so that I can't move but leaving enough room for a shiny object he pulls out of the duffel bag hanging lazily over his shoulder. In an instant, my hands are trapped in handcuffs and he flips my frame around so I can clearly see his face.

 

"We shouldn't be playing hide and seek when you've got criminals to catch Yakov, now should we?" I reply hastily, returning a smug smirk. I lean forward until I'm sure none of the other patrolling officers or citizens can hear me, "Wouldn't want to get unmarked now would we?" I snarl seemingly sweetly and his face immediately crinkles to one of fear but is hastily replaced with undying rage.

 

"Listen here you little shit, I find out you're in more trouble than you already are and I'll see to it that your Father's ashes are fed to my Rottweilers, you got it?" he snaps in my ear, eyes blazing with fury. I can tell I'm visibly flinching, and for a moment my normally hardened expression turns as soft what his hugs used to be. For a moment I'm re-living the way he'd give me warm hugs while I cried into his loving arms, the way he'd sneak me into the forest in the winter to see the falling snow, and most of all his favourite food. The way he'd cook pork-cutlet bowls every Sunday without fail, no matter how busy or tired he was. "Here you go, little piggy" he would laugh, always laughing, always smiling, oh how he would cry if he saw me now. Somehow Yakov knows how much he meant to me, I can't cry now, I can't let him have the satisfaction of knowing how to fuck me up.

 

"You wouldn't dare, especially if you didn't want your precious wife knowing about your sexy fun times with the Mayor" I retort, much to his horror.

"How the hell do you know you snoopy bastard," he shakily snaps but not making eye contact for fear I'll see right through him.

"Of all people Mr .Yakov, you should know I have my ways..." I reply in a more "innocent" tone, and I can see my chance as he is distracted. Using all the momentum I have left in my arms, I swing my left leg up to meet his face, and he momentarily loosens his grip on my arms. I use my fury as a motivator and kick him as hard as I can in the arm as he screams out in pain. However I forget the fact he has back-up, and two guards violently push me onto my front and onto the freezing concrete. Normally, I could have easily fought them off, but given my current bloodied state and the fact my hands are still cuffed firmly together, it's a bit of a different story. Yakov forces himself to get up, sneering at the sight of me on the floor underneath his two henchmen.

"Well, well, well Katsuki, attempting a runner are we?"he announces circling me, and he leans down and pats my head. Turning to his colleagues, he barks orders to finish me, and oh finish me they do. Again and again I take hits to my stomach, chest and limbs, I'm practically their punching bag to use to their disposal. Just as I can hear death calling, Yakov's rough hands yank my chin towards him, and once again he whispers in my ear.

"What the hell where you doing in the forest, Katsuki?" his low voice sternly asks. Shit. How much does he know? If he has any evidence I could be in prison by tonight, my ass is cooked if the chief inspecter so much as suspects I even stepped foot in there.

"What...w-ere yo-u...doing..I-n th-e...mayors...b-ed?" I breathe out, its hard to talk after your chest has been kicked within inches of life by the authority guards." Do-n't think....I don-'t have...recording-s" I smirk wildly, but this doesn't last long. He pulls my entire body up so that I'm only a foot away from his face, and even I don't predict what happens next. I can almost see the fear in his eyes, the rising tension and the dread but who wouldn't be scared? You work your entire life waiting for a "respectable" marriage that's supposed to take away all the pain, all the suffering, and give you love like in all the storybooks they read to the children. Then what happens? You eventually get bored and panic realising you won't ever fulfil your dreams or be with anyone else, your soul rots away with every passing second, minute until you finally realise you never wanted this in the first place. But by then it's all too late, divorce leads to social out casting, so you fall into the arms into another, another who can give you all the pleasure you desire, they fill the gaping hole in your heart while the rest of society thinks you're just as picture perfect as everyone else. And if someone finds out? Your life is all but over, you become a laughing stock, even more of a social outcast than the divorcees, and the worst part is ;only now you realise how cruel the society you've spent every second of your life living in is.

 

I could never tell anyone about Yakov, even though he may be a total douche, somewhere inside that steel coating is a human who just wants to be loved like everyone else, despite how I use his secrets as bribes. Somewhere in the last few minutes of staring, I get the feeling he understands what I'm thinking and slowly releases his grip on me. Grudgingly, he gets up and from the corner of my eye I almost see a small smile on his chapped lips.

"See you round, Katsuki," he sniggers, walking away as his cape swings from side to side and his guards swiftly follow, leaving me gobsmacked and clutching my bleeding arms and nose. He carries on patrolling but presumably turning a blind eye to my "activities", and for that I'm very thankful. He may not be the most ahem...trustworthy person I've ever met, but our mutual understading of how bleech this world really is is the closest I've ever got to a friendship. As I walk back to the literal dump I call home, one thought stubbornly sticks on my mind. What would it be like to have a real friend in this skeptical, cruel world? What would it be like to have someone I could actually trust? Would I be faithful? Would they love me just as much as I loved them?

What would it be like to have someone who made me happy? 

 

I slipped through the broken electric fence surrounding forest as per usual, trekking through the thick blanket of gleaming snow like a hiker, trying to find my usual spot down by the lake (which now was frozen) when I spotted him. Shivering and distant, fragile but muscular frame wrapped in a dirty brown shawl, and short silver hair glistening in the faint glow of the moonlight as his azure eyes lay gazing at the stars dotting the pitch-black night sky. Shocked by the presence of another human, I stumble back, right onto a twig which snaps instantly, but not before it breaks the calming silence, leaving me flustered and wondering what to do.

"Shit,"I mumble to myself quietly before I realise my voice was probably even louder than the that of the twig, and thats when we both look up and his eyes lock with mine for the first time.


	4. Chapter 4

Viktor's POV

 

Cold, blistering wind sweeps across the city as I pull my hoodie over my face slowly, trying to avoid any suspicions from passers-by and conceal my face from the CCTV cameras positioned in various parts of the city. It's freezing and I regret my decision not to pack my winter parker coat, but then I wouldn't have had any space to pack my only photo of mum. Still, I wasn't sure what to expect when I finally left home, the last time I'd been outside was the bachelor party for my brother Adrian, and even then I was travelling in a blacked-out limo. Today the air is bitter and streets relatively empty apart from a few shoppers I assume are getting boxing day deals, and that I'm very grateful for; people won't be staring and there's less chance of being recognized. Squealing when I breathe out and I can see the hot air forming a cloud, I bit my lip in frustration. Any noise could attract more attention, but the simple notion of being outside and feeling the cold air is enough to make me shriek with delight. As I walk along I mentally note down the shops, homes and businesses that I'm passing for future reference, who knows when I'll be back here.

 

Towering skyscrapers brush the clouds while the begging homeless scatter the streets underneath, angry pedestrians argue underneath the dimly-lit lamps while raindrops pour over the streets and I attempt to hurry across the pavement without bumping into any enraged citizens. It amazes me that almost all the buildings are made with unscratched glass, shiny, huge windows and translucent, metallic yet acrylic doors and clean-cut lawns in the few houses that occupy the city. My mind drifts back to my own home, the front lawn was completely off limits, even gazing at it while he was around was dangerous. As I pass a particularly large house with delicate potted flowers and a tiny vegetable garden just visable from the front of the house, I can't help but notice a small child with waist- length silver flowing hair and sapphire eyes. Am I seeing things? No, this boy is most definitely real. But as I hide behind a bush (I'm not that much of a stalker!) I notice the boy calling for someone. Puzzled, I glance over the fencce surrounding the house and see "mini Viktor" being pulled into a warm embrace by a man who looks to be in around his late thirties, with a small amount of stubble and shoulder-length curly chesnut hair. Leaning a little over the fence, I can just about catch snippets of their conversation,

 

"Dad? Where did you go? I thought you went away forever!" the boy squeaks, nuzzling into the older mans shoulder. I can see that he's close to crying, but "dad" pulls him closer and gently woipes the tears away with his pinkie.

"Oh, Timmy, I would never leave you silly billy!" he laughs almost casually, trying to calm down the son. And the last two words almost break me.

"We're family"

 

And then I run, as fast as my puny legs will carry me, away from it all. The city, the house, the memories, the flashbacks but buildings turn to faces and trees turn to home and I find myself in another, no not here, please not here, but no matter how much I beg, I know it's still coming and I tuck myself behind some rotting apple trees, pulling my legs to my chest gingerly and prepare for the worst as my vision turns hazy.

 

/20 years before/

A 7-year-old Viktor sits dangling his legs gently on a sofa, swinging back and forth while watching the world from upside down, carefully sketching in his notebook. After a few minutes a lopsided grin develops on his face, pleased at the outcome of his work. Slowly he adds some final finishing touches and breaks off in a sprint to the kitchen, "Mummy!Daddy! Look what I drew! Look! Look! Look!" he shrieks, delighted to have found his parents sheepishly whispering my the counter. I hold back a scream as "daddy" grabs the drawing right out of his hands and neutral expression that held his face before had quickly detoriated to one of anger. He holds it at arms length and shows "mummy" what he thinks is so horrific.

The paper is scribbled with a stick man, silver hair and sapphire eyes, two small children sitting underneath with similar smiles and a house like this one standing behind. The silver-haired boy (in the picture all grown up) is holding hands with another.

 

She doesn't have a pretty pink dress like 'normal' girls.

Or long blond curly hair.

No lipstick, purse or nail polish.

Because if you looked closer you would find

She wasn't a girl at all.

 

And underneath were the scribbled words "We're family". Watching from the corner I try to cover my vision, but every time I have to look, I have to know its real. There are tear stains on my cheeks now, I know whats coming.

"Vitya, what's this?" daddy questions, raising an eyebrow, clenching his fist and voice raisjng rapidly. He's pointing directly at the black-haired male in the picture with such a hate in his eyes he could have shot it right there and then.

"It's my family, when I grow up. Just like you and mummy!" the younger me squeaks out excitedly, not noticing the rising tension. "Look there's me and the little kiddies and my husban-"

A hand slams on the table, almost knocking the whole thing over, cutting me off from my sentence. Daddy slowly looks up at little Vitya with a mixture of hatred and anger in his eyes, and without warning starts crumpling the paper up into a tiny ball seated in the middle of his fist. " That's not your family you stupid child. We're family. And if you want to be a fucking faggot then you can get the hell out right now!" by this point he's full on shouting and gripping little Vitya's shoulders tightly, digging his nails into the skin. Vitya looks to his Mother, who only holds an expression of sadness.

"Go to your room Vitya" she sternly instructs and pushes him towards the stairs, but not before he spots a paper in the fire. His eyes are watering rapidly and with a last ounce of defience whispers,

"We're family".


	5. Chapter 5

Viktor's POV

I tensely open my eyes and realise just how much I'm shaking, my pale arms vibrating rapidly against the mud and my legs jittering uncontrollably against my head, which is balanced carefully on my tucked up position as I breathe heavily into my thighs. Why does this always happen? Every time I see, hear or touch something even remotely connected to my past it triggers a wave of emotions, thoughts and negativity inside my head, am I really that weak?

 

Gingerly I lift my head to look at my surroundings, I seem to have ran just outside of the main city where tiny, ancient cottages rest, some of them still even have what the older generation call "televisions" which is apparently what people used to use to watch shows. Did they even have Netflix? Looking down, I notice the small tufts of grass peaking out between the houses, the further I get away from the city the closer I get to the wall, and the closer to freedom. Heaving and spluttering, I raise thinking about how with every step there'll be less of a journey to make. After the wall, I'll be free, no more imprisonment, no more homophobia, just me. Slowly shops and houses turn to plainlands and yellow, unwatered grass and the edge of the marked territory is getter closer as the soles of my feet ache more and more with each coming step. 

 

For the first time in hours I look up, and stumble back almost instantly, standing a few thousand meters away before me is a huge, a fucking huge grey wall. The bricks are dusted, worn with the effort of holding up tonnes of stone, and a few cracks can just about be seen from here. The wall stretches all around every landmark I've seen in the 27 years I've been alive, almost effortlessly, hightlighting how small our world is. Instantaneously, I have a burning desire to know, what's beyond those walls? My original plan was to just get beyond the walls, then he'd never be able to find me. Suddenly, I'm gripped by panic. What if it's different beyond here? What if it's not? What if I can't get over the wall?

Why the hell is there a wall in the first place?

I can't stay here any longer, just as a feeling of burning desire had rised, one of dread was flaming just as fast. I break into a sprint, my eyes focused on the lasers and guards positioned atop the wall, eyeing the ground for any unwanted visitors. There's an orchard of pear trees nearby and I hastily duck for cover, not realising what hits the ground where I was standing a split second after I jumped. A blinding red beam crashes into the ground, smothering the plants nearby to smithereens while I just stand with my mouth agape and hands shaking furiously. If I was there a split second later- grim. Suddenly another death-laser shoots but this time closer to the orchard in which I am seeking refuge. Only narrowly missing me this time, I silently scream and run, run as fast as I can while the guard kicks the lazer into overdrive and barrels of deadly light follow close behind, destroying everything in its path, including the pear trees unfortunately situated in the line of fire. By this point I'm hyperventilating while the wall is getting closer and closer and places to hide are running out, I either stop running and burn to death or crash into a wall and break every bone in my body. Out of nowhere, I come up with an ingenious idea, the wall! I can get the guard to destroy it with his murdering lazer while he's trying to aim at me! I momentarily pause running for dear life and spot a small crack in the wall just a few hundred meters away, I just have to hold in a few more minutes. It can't be that hard, right? The last of the remaining pear trees is behind me and I'm sprinting out in the open towards the only piece of hope I have left while my legs are slowly giving in to the pain in my soles. There's only a few meters left, I tell myself and half-limp the final leg of the journey. Finally, my slim, cold hands touch with the dusty brick and for a moment I can taste freedom.

I look up, shocked to see the dreaded beam, pointed straight at my face, and the murderous expression on the man who controls it. I jerk fast out the way,

but not fast enough. 

 

Pain courses through my right arm and oozes around my body, my hearbeat soaring and I open my mouth to scream but no sound comes out. My head immediately tilts with dizziness and the burn on my arm is losing blood at an alarming rate; the skin is a worrying red and looks as if it's going to fall off any minute while the area around it has swollen to purple deeper than the pool of blood I'm standing in. Time seems to stop as I realise I have a 5 second window to try and drag myself and my lifeless arm through the crack- which is now a gaping 3 meter hole- and onto the other side, only 5 seconds to save my life. 

 

It's almost like a scene from an action movie as wind brushes harshly against my side and I take the death jump through the destroyed rock and my entire life flashes before my life, and I'm even more determined to get out of this hell. My anger propels me through the burning tunnel and past, away from the flames and away from him. 

 

I'm on the other side. Tears begin to flow down my cheeks and scatter the ground as the full reality hits me: I'm alone. I'm in the territory of the non-markeds. Oh shit. The fire behind me's starting to die out, I have to get the hell out of here before they start searching for suspects, no I can't go back, I won't go back. Wiping the evidence of any crying from my face is my first action, and I begin to yet again drag my leg to somewhere. I'm surrounded by a field not so different to the ones on the side of the marked, but this one is significantly less prosperous, with most of the crops either dead, wilting or yellow. Luckily, no one seems to be around as I trek through the overgrown grass towards whatever civilisation might be here, but there seems to be no signs of a forest anywhere nearby. It's like the reverse of my journey here as more and more cottages comd into view, but I can't spot any tall buildings not even in the distance. Do they even have skyscrapers here? 

 

My arm stings extremely painfully under this trench coat, but taking it off would reveal my mark and I'd probably end up getting killed just after I got here. Eventually, I spot a local with dulled green eyes and a chestnut quiff, lifting up stacks of what seems to be coal as he hums lowly. His hands are scruffled from years of labor and he has visible muscles peeking out from his shirt, but no mark on his shoulder. As he turns around, a nametag with the name "Mickey" scribbled messily becomes visable,and he seems like one of those happy-to-help-but-not-really people as he scrambles to dump heavy loads onto a wooden cart. His eyes don't sparkle with happiness or life or in general anything, I never knew they worked the non-markeds like this.

"Excuse me?"I squeak behind him, startling the hell out of him "Could you perhaps tell me where the city centre is?" I question hopefully while he eyes me up and down and I shiver. Suddenly he bursts into laughter, what did I do wrong?

" You're standing in it," he chuckles, and I look around to notice the few scruffy streets and conversing shopkeepers, there was tons of litter and even what looked like blood on the pavement, but it still felt 100 times more homely than the city, or even my own house. Maybe this guy knows where the forest is, or at least knows someone who knows.

"Could you, eh, point me in the direction of the forest?" I awkwardly jumble and look up to see the shock on his face, I guess the rumours spread to here too.

"I'm assuming you know it's off limits, but its that way, just keep going straight then turn left" he lowers his voice almost to a whisper "Good luck" and pulls me into a handshake with I eagerly oblige to.

 

The final leg of my journey is complete as I trek through frosted trees and icy bushes to a completely frozen over lake, who knew such beauty existed in real life? Songbirds whistle as the night rises and the snow is so thick I seriously contemplate building a snowman, but something stops me just to gaze at the scenery; the trees I had watched from my bedroom window were now right in front of me, thick branches, enstrangled and all. I haven't seen the stars this clearly for more than 20 years, or a winter wonderland like this ever. I finally, finally feel at peace and slowly close my eyes for the first time in 2 days.

Behind me, a twig snaps.

 

"Shit."

Standing behind me, is a glossy-black haired male with the most shocked expression I've seen in my entire life, he has a scruffy fringe and dark brown eyes that are carefully guarded as to not give any insight to the expression of the beholder. His frame is thin, almost delicate but has the same worn hands as Mickey. He wears broken glasses, scratched and shattered from who knows what and his hoodie looks 5 sizes too big for him while the leggings stick to his thighs nicely. It's then I notice his feet are fidgeting from the cold or just embarrassment. He stares into my eyes, trying to determine my current emotion, oh my god his eyes, they were so many shades of browb mixed together, I couldn't help but imagine the earth inside them.

 

Slowly I raise, and I realise he's about a foot smaller than me, but nonetheless intimidating. I hold out my hand to shake, but he just stares at me as if I'm mad, is he a officer? Just as quick as he came, he takes my hand...and twists it violently as I cry out in pain. In a flash, I'm pinned hopelessly against the frozen bark behind me and his grip is stronger than steel. He stares straight at me, eyebrows curled in curiosity at why I'm in so much pain.

"Who are you?" he questions, the voice coming out of his mouth almost doesn't fit him, it's high and flustered, probably his only weakness, but still he remains calm.

"Who the hell are yOU?!" I shriek in an embarrassingly high pitch, " I held out my hand to shake and you freaking pinned me against a frozen tree!"

To this he only smirks and reaches over his shoulder where a ripped duffel bad rests. You would think that being distracted would make him losen his grip, but he only tightens it more, almost crushing my wrist in the process. I yelp loudly and he looks up, smirking even more. He seems to have found what he was looking for but hides it behind him, urgh.

"I'll ask again, who are you?" he presses, and pulls out what he was hiding, a 15cm knife. Sharpened to perfection. And currently resting right under my chin. It isn't quite pressed against my skin, but one false move and he could kill me right here, right now.

"V-Viktor. Viktor Nikforo-ov." I choke out, while his face remains unimpressed.

Without warning, he violently yanks the sleeves of my sweather to my shoulders, catching on the burns on my right arm in the process as I scream out in pain. For the first time, he looks something other than angry, but that changes when he sees the mark on my shoulder, stiffening even more than before. Now his fingernails are angrily dug into my skin, I can't take it anymore. Not again.

"Just kill me! Stab the freaking knife into my head for all I care! Put me out of my fucking misery!" I scream, tears forming in my eyes, but it turns into full-blown sobbing and his grip loosens as I slip to the floor, covering my face in shame. He lets go completely and kneels down to sit cross-legged next to me, still staring.

"Yuri. I'm Yuri Katsuki"


	6. Chapter 6

Yuri's POV

 

A pair of piercing blue eyes stare up at me in confusion, while I avert my gaze to the ground. What was I thinking? Pull a knife out my bag and stab the guy because he didn't tell me his name? In front of me, I can still feel his stare burning onto my face, but his silver fringe- very conveniently- covers most of both his eyes so I can't even tell his expression. The tears have faded and dried, for which I am very grateful, how can someone do something so simple as to just cry but make me, a person hides almost every emotion, be on the verge of tears myself?

 

Sniffling, he breaks the silence as I look up to see a even more puzzled look on his face as he studies me closely, almost like a test subject. What is he thinking about?

" Yuri, huh?" he questions in a thick Russian accent, raising an eyebrow. His voice is much deeper than earlier, thick and he speaks slowly, almost as if he savours every word that leaves his mouth, and a light-hearted chuckle escapes his mouth soon after.

 

I nod vigorously, making eye contact now will only spread a unwanted colour across my otherwise pale cheeks, urgh. He splutters loudly, and can seem to hardly contain himself, by the time I finally look up he's rolling on the floor laughing hysterically. The sound is somehow beautiful, every sound is heavenly compared to the frantic tears earlier on. As he laughs his head falls back to reveal perfectly white teeth accompanied with a heart-shaped smile and his eyes scrunch together happily like a child. In all honesty, it's actually kind of cute, but do you really think I'd say that out loud? Pftt, I don't have a death wish. He was crying less than an hour ago, what the fuck is wrong with him? Finally, he manages to control himself and sits upright again with a lopsided grin spreading across his face and I must say, I do prefer this expression very much compared to his last.

After an eternity, he speaks up, echos of his laugh still rolling around in my head: " Isn't Yuri Japanese for lezbian se-"

My face jerks up immediately in horror, " nO, I mean... well kind of but still nonononnono" I squeak out, waving me hands frantically. By this point he's practically dying from laughter, so I just leave him to it. The sound of it is quite calming, and I can't quite place why. It takes me years for people to realise my semi-serious comments are sarcastic, my only "friend" is about 50, and whenever anyone displays any kind of emotion in front of me, I immediately push them away and a random marked strolls into my forest, I threaten to kill him and now he's laughing on the floor hysterically like we've been best friends forever. I'm beyond confused, especially by the small smile threatening to take over my own face; I haven't joked with another human properly in more than 2 years.

 

His burst of laughter has slowed to a few giggles escaping his mouth every few seconds, and then stops abruptly, replaced with steady snores as he leans comfortably against the tree behind us. I hadn't noticed before but the space under his eyes is filled by bags left from no sleep, whether they're from recently or not is beyond me, but I'm still curious. His entire face looks plagued by insomnia and his mouth is curled into a steady frown. He looks almost like a baby animal curled up against the hard bark of the oak behind us, but even from here I can tell something is bothering him greatly. As if he can hear my thoughts, his head falls onto my shoulders, startling me completely. You would think that having someones head 'crash delicately onto your shoulder' would be somewhat comforting, well it seems Viktor here wasn't very good at that kind of thing as when his head crashes- not so delicately- onto my left shoulder I yell out in pain and he stirs from sleep, crashing onto the forest floor with a huff.

 

His taller body is splurged awkwardly on the grass beneath and I can hear him groan lightly in pain. He tries lifting up his hands haplessly, but just crashes to the ground immediately. This time he tries half-pressup lifting himself up, which was even more of a fail than the last attempt. Giving up he just collapses onto the hard forest floor. His smile falters, his mask is let down and sleep overtakes him yet again as steady snores fill the silence. Usually I would be happy to not have the presence of human company and be alone again, but it just doesn't feel right. The forest without his insane laughter feels empty, and even though he's sleeping soundly right next to me, I kindof miss the blissful world I just got a glimpse of when this boy came. Sighing, I reluctantly heave his body off the ground and onto the same tree I'm leaning on. He's surprising light, his arms are pale and thin- as with his legs- and I wouldn't say he's eaten in a while. I find myself gazing longingly at his mark, before long I'm lightly caressing my fingers over the black line. But it's not the mark that interests me. The touch to his skin is like lighting, my fingers instantly heat up and I pull back, confused. What was that? I bury my head frantically in my now burning hands, the sensation still slightly lingers.

 

This is why I haven't left myself feel for almost 5 years. How do I know I can even trust Viktor? What if I get too emotionally attached to him and he gets up and leaves just like everybody else? Dad's gone. Mum went soon after. I don't think I can take anymore grief. ' You should have just killed him while you had the chance' my subconsciousness echoes, but then I can hear the faint child-like sound of his laughter, from the very person who never had a childhood. Something light rests on my shoulder, looking up I can see the soft silver hair dangling down, along with the pale pink lips curled into a smile. My body finally relaxes, and just before I lose consciousness, something unfamiliar tags at my lips, something I haven't seen for 5 years.

 

A smile.

 

A genuine smile.


	7. Chapter 7

Viktor's POV

 

The light breeze brushes against my shoulders as I slowly recollect where the hell I am, and what actually happened. I'm leaning on a slightly soft tree for comfort, the branches reach the sky above and small droplets of snow fall around me. Funny enough, I'm not freezing, and I find a plaid winter coat around my waist, almost like an igloo. As the snow dances down I capture a flake in my palm, examing the intricate structure behind it. My imagination gets ahead of me and imagines not a snowflake, but a fairy trapped in my fingers. My imagination is extremely overeative, which really doesn't help when you have recurring nightmares every time you even close your eyes, but I can't help but feel like not seeing the world as bleakly and straightforward as the majority of humanity makes up for it. The snow is piling up faster now, the clouds are working overtime and the breeze is turning into a full blown wind, I can feel panic rising in my chest, where's yuri?

 

Yuri. The boy who put a knife to my throat; the boy who wrapped me in a thick blanket so I didn't get neumonia. He was so carefully reserved and guarded that it was almost impossible to decifer his expression even when his chocolate eyes glared straight at you. Anyone would think that at least one point he would break down into hysterical sobs and confess his entire life story to anyone willing to listen, but I can't imagine him doing any such thing. His emotions were sealed in a vault that was virtually impenetrable while pretending that he doesn't feel, how long has he been like this? He'd never mentioned any kind of family, no pretentious siblings or controlling parents, the forest here is bliss, almost no humanity and just me and Yuri. I wonder if we'll ever have a normal conversation, if we'll ever get to know each other or even become friends, if we could stay here forever with the snow fairies and towering trees, lying on the bark of a soft tree, watching the snow fall gently to the earth.

 

That's when I spot him, curled up in a egg shape, jittery fingers curled around his legs while he rocks backwards and forwards ever so slightly. His hair sways slightly in the strong wind, and his feet fumble in the snow, tense eyes staring up at the sunrise turning the sky a deep orange and parts crimson. He sighs softly, tired eyes looking down once again, and quickly buries his face in his hands, trying desperately to hold it all in. What on Earth was so terrible that happened to him that makes him think emotions are a weakness? Honestly, I just want to hug him and tell him everything's going to be ok, but deep deep down I know I can't possibly tell such a far fetched lie, because nothing in this world ever turns out alright.

 

Treading as quietly as I can, I tip toe towards him, the crunches of the snow beneath me getting louder and louder in his ears up to the point where I'm sure he knows I'm here and is ignoring me, or just doesn't want me to be here. Slowly I crumble down next to him, pulling my own knees to my chest to conserve heat, and look deeply into his eyes which are still glued to the ground stubbornly. For the first time I see something other than the coldness in his eyes, now they are filled with fear, his irises constantly shaking but still, holding everything in. I want to be the person whom he finally opens up to, I want to be his rock, I just want to make everything okay again. If only he would tell me what's wrong, I would do everything in my power to help him.

 

"Yuri? Are you alright?" I question as soft as I can, shouting makes everything so much worse. Slowly he looks up, finally acknowledging my existence with what I can only describe as one of the most heartbreaking sights I've ever seen. Now I can clearly see how dishevelled his dark locks are, sprawled lazily across his forehead like he's been tossing and turning all night, his cheeks are stained by what could only be a waterfall of tears, and the bags under his eyes are darker and heavier than even mine.

Still, Yuri cracks out a broken smile, " y-yeah I'm fine-e" he chokes out in a whisper so quiet I barely catch the words.

 

But the worst part is his eyes, begging, starved of love, beyond the point of any belief in life, so broken and betrayed they didn't trust a soul with the hurt they felt. Tired from all the lies that came out of his mouth everyday. How did I know this? There was once a silver-haired boy with crystal blue eyes whom held the same expression every single day. He turns away, the 'smile' fading quickly along with his fleeting moment of vulnerability, acting like nothing happened. He seems to be lost in thought, staring at the frozen lake glittering in front of us while his mouth switches in need to express. In that moment he looks utterly lost and alone; I do the only thing I can think of.

 

Quickly I pull him into a strong embrace, pulling his torso closer while he squeaks loudly out of surprise. I wrap my feeble arms around his waist while Yuri's own arms lie by his side, shocked. I hold him there for a few minutes, until eventually he snakes his arms around me and his chin rests on my shoulders. His hands are cold from being out in the snow for so long, but I enjoy the hug all the same. After what feels like blissful hours, we eventually break apart and his face reflects a different smile this time, his lips twitch upwards slightly while his cheeks are dusted with a light pink blush that perks up to his ears. His eyes. The emptiness was still there of course, I can't make that go away after a single hug, but deep, deep into the abyss I can see a flicker of hope. It's truly beautiful, I just want to keep that expression on his face for the rest of time. Realising my staring, he looks down, flustered, avoiding eye contact.

"What are you looking at?"Yuri asks, consfused at the smirk evading my face after seeing his own facial expression.

"You're smiling" I breathed, "A real smile".


	8. Chapter 8

Yuri's POV

 

"A smile" "A genuine smile"

 

The words spin around in my head like pinballs, repeating over and over until I can't make sense of them at all, and my eyes are still focused on Viktor, face lit up in unexplained happiness. The ground underneath me is twisting and turning violently, almost as fast as all the thoughts going through my head. Can he tell the difference between my emotions? Can he see through the mask that is my face? How, when I've known him less than a week?

 

I've spent two years learning how to block people out, everyone you have emotional attachments with will eventually leave anyway, but this boy is different. Never once has someone seen past the "I'm fine" lie, and I thought no one ever will. It's weird, he's no different to the rest of them, yet so strange at the same time. Obviously very hurt, maybe even traumatised though still holding it all together. A thought abruptly interupts my inner monologue, the question I should have asked this boy since the day he came.

Why is he here? 

 

My brain racks itself for ideas, he has to have some form of motivation right? It would probably best to just ask him myself to avoid jumping to conclusions but I doubt he'd give an honest answer. Looking back up at Viktors face again, his features are covered in confusion and a slight hint of curiosity at what's kept me silent for so long. Eyes furrowed in interest, he studies my facial expression like a hawk, but luckily I'm used to this sort of thing.

 

"The forest is beautiful this time of year, isn't it?" I speak quietly, avoiding eye contact to once again gaze at the falling snowflakes settling around me, the icey lake a few feet away and pretending not to notice the confused figure curled up staring right at me.

"Don't bullshit me, Yuri," Viktor sighs deeply in a harsh, almost defeated tone, edging closer towards me again until our shoulders touch, sparking some sort of electricity all the way down my arm until the freaky tingling sensation in my fingers is back.

He speaks again, softer and slightly more composed this time, "I might not be able to tell what's wrong, but you could at least explain." Even softer, Viktor averts his stare to the ground, fumbling with his fingers."Don't be like her."

 

Who the hell is "her"? An Ex? Friend? Family member? Now he's the one being secretive, making me even more curious as to why he's avoiding the subject. However, I know how annoying people pressing the subject can be so I leave it and focus on the forest instead, but my mind diverts to something I seem to have forgotten about in the past few days. My stomach growls embarrassingly loudly, almost as if it's /trying/ to get Viktor's attention. I don't usually eat much- how could I when the prices are so high- but 2 days is excessive even for me; I doubt I can go much longer without passing out. Viktor looks up, slightly dazed but he must have heard the noise and gazes back at me, tired eyes seemingly hungry too. Groggily I stand, shaking off the snow as Viktor stares slightly confused at my actions but remains cradling himself on the snow- covered floor.

 

"Get up," I command seemingly confidently, hopefully the nervousness didn't show through my voice, really I just want to see his reaction to me bossing him around. Almost shocked, Viktor quickly scrabbles to his feet as I start a slow jog across the forest and he follows pursuit. We watch as the bare trees slowly fade away into nothingness and the snow is replaced with slush on a poorly made road, a reminder of the real world. The streets get larger, more covered in dust, shops and dried blood until we reach the place I am looking for, my own house. I know that in this world I should be grateful I have a roof over my head; I should make use of it and stop complaining, but this house holds too many memories for me to handle in a long period of time.

 

To anyone else, the house looks like any other on the street, ancient bricks only just holding together while small tufts of graffiti are sprinkled around the sides and the crimson paint on the front is peeling away with each passing day. Ironically, my house is the only on the street with no smashed up windows despite me hardly being here, theres only small cracks and scratches from wear and tear. The doormat still spells out "Katsuki" in bold letters though they've long simce faded dramatically, no suprise there and I look over at Viktor who seems both suprised and intrigued, probably wondering why the hell we're here.

 

Pulling the almost-broken key out of my ripped pocket, I push the mat away and unlock the door gingerly, I haven't been home in at least a week. The living room ( well if you could call a beaten up sofa and aa smashed coffee table that) was just as I'd left it, while the kitchen door was still swinging open in the wind and my parent's bedroom- I just can't clear it out- is still sealed shut. I never had a bedroom, just slept with a blanket on the sofa or the floor when we had guests which was basically just the police whenever they suspected me. Even this dump used to have a homely feel when they were around, it didn't matter if we couldn't afford new clothes every year or that Dad worked in a mine while Mum in a bakers. I was content, happy even but I should have known all good things must come to an end.

 

Snapping me out of my trance, Viktor lightly pokes my shoulder and brings me back to the real world and why we're here in the first place. I look back at him, fidgeting awkwardly. Funny how anyone else even touching me would cause me to flip, but somehow Viktor's touch calms me yet there's still that burning sensation from even a single contacting of skin. I've only known him a week, but it somehow feels like it's been much longer.

"So, er, what do you want me to do?" he asks quietly, briefly making eye contact until my cheeks flush uncontrollably and I look down rapidly. What's wrong with me?

"um you can just sit here, I'll get the food ready," I blabber as fast as I can and barely see his polite nod as I sprint out the living room. I'm not scared of him, so why does my heart beat so fucking fast whenever he looks at me? What makes it worse is thay he's great at detecting emotions, the exact opposite to me, Yuri Katsuki, the boy who doesn't feel. As I prepare the cooking I find myself incredibly distracted by these thoughts, I have no idea what I'm doing and my mind keeps drifting back to Viktor. 

 

Suddenly there's a sharp stab of pain on my hand, looking down I can see blood dribbling down my arm like a waterfall and I wince loudly in agony. Maybe I should have put the knife down, whilst I try to deal with the blood on my left hand, the knife slips onto my right, creating a even deeper cut and this time I scream out in pain before realising how loud I am. Dropping the knife to the floor, tears sting at my eyes but I don't let them flow, not now. The door creaks open and Viktor rushes in confused but his expression quickly turns to horror as he sees the state of my hands, bleeding and cut.

"Yuri! How did this happen?" he shrieks in a impossibly high voice, whilst running over to the cupboards to attempt to find the mediocre first aid kit. He practically sprints over and drags me to the sofa, where he opens the kit to find bandages.

" I'm fine, Viktor, really," I choke out unconvincingly, as tears threaten to fall onto my cheek and I turn away. A soft hand grazes the side of my cheek and gently turns my head towards Viktor, so I'm staring straight into his eyes and my heartbeat is quickening again at an unhealthy rate.

" No you're not! Your hands are covered in blood and you look like you're about to cry, let me help you, " Viktor almost whispers and softly tugs my hands towards him and in the moment I wonder what would happen if he held my hand without me being injured and I blush furiously.

He cleans the blood in the most gentle motion I've ever felt and I'm about to open my mouth to protest when he opens the bandage but decide against it as I watch his delicate but large hands wrapping the material around mine.

"All better," he smiles, laughing quietly.

He leaves to get the failed meal out of the oven, and sets the bowls on the coffee table in front of us and before I can protest, slinks his arm around my shoulders, leaving me flustered, bewildered and leaning into his side.


End file.
